


Safe, Sane and Consensual

by Teavat



Category: Dr. STONE (Manga)
Genre: Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, OC props galore, Stanley is the One Sane Childhood Friend, Swearing, Tags Updated with New Chapters, Xeno being appalling on camera, Xeno has a DS thing, Xeno is the master of cringe, finding healthy outlets for your kinks, no petrification event AU, non-explicit BDSM and kinkiness, non-explicit but frank depictions of sexual practices, not a shipping fic, rated M aside from Xeno's potty mouth going briefly Explicit in the first chapter, tons of boundary-related awkwardness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:20:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25775035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teavat/pseuds/Teavat
Summary: In which Stanley is the mental health support friend, Senku has a questionable taste in entertainment, Xeno's coat is a visual hazard and Ancient Aliens accidentally performs a public service.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	1. Fifteen Minutes of Fame

**Author's Note:**

> Tags will be updated with future chapters, please mind them.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the good people of Rocket Lab sic their awful colleague on a terrible TV show, because it sounded like a good idea at the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning at the end!
> 
> Shout-out to lemonmerinque for being an inspiration for chapter one! No, not like that.

It generally happens a few times per year.

Someone in the office gets a text, an email, a call. _Dear Copy-Pasted from Public Personnel Records,_ it says _, would you like a chance to share some interesting aspects of your work with a wider audience? We represent a critically acclaimed, ground-breaking series..._

It is _always_ a trap.

News reporters usually open with ’I am Jaden Smith from NBC, would you like to comment on...’ followed up by most often relevant but occasionally outrageously misplaced query, and the reply usually gets turned into three lines of text or a ten second sound bite of varying accuracy. Documentarists, on the other hand, tend to eagerly answer any and all questions about their project and seize every chance to tell you more about it.

But the exceedingly polite ones, the ones who ply you with fame and respect in a vague, _oh so_ vague context... Those are the ones to be wary of. They’ve all heard the stories, so whenever one of those messages drops in, everyone knows to google the sender before even considering a reply.

This time it’s the _Ancient Aliens_.

They’re one of the more tenacious ones, so by the time it comes up at the coffee table in the Rocket Lab, they have already gone through three other departments and still haven’t given up.

What’s more, Ancient Aliens is a repeat offender. Last year, Terry from Archives made the mistake of talking to them when they showed up. Kind, well-meaning Terry attempted to humour them by talking about changes in archival methods and didn’t know they had a button camera. At least her dignity was somewhat preserved by the fact that she was called ’Tara’ in the episode, and there’s no one named Tara in the archival section.

”I got it this morning,” Lainey the solar array engineer reports as she sits down with a steaming cup.

”First one? Lucky you. I’ve had four. Haven’t answered once and they keep re-sending the same mail.”

”They’ll give up eventually,” instrument investigator Notah tries to reassure everyone. ”They did so last time, too.”

”How long did it take?”

”About three weeks per department, give or take a week.”

”Oh hell. If only there was some way to speed it up.”

In the far end of the room, Xeno turns away from the hapless intern he has corralled into a corner to have a one-sided discussion about different ways to preserve live anthrax bacteria in a sealed container with. ”Why don’t you just go on camera, say something that makes them look utterly foolish and be done with it?”

Notah shakes his head. ”You can’t out-parody something that’s already indistinguishable from a piss-poor joke. There’s no way to make up stuff that sounds worse than what they are already saying.”

Xeno scoffs. ”More like no one has tried hard enough yet.”

Everyone else in the room stops talking and turns to look at him.

”What?” Xeno asks.

-

Dr. Xeno is the first currently employed, big-name NASA scientist to ever agree to be interviewed for the show. Understandably, he causes a bit of a tizzy when he arrives.

He has caused even more of a tizzy by the time he leaves.

-

The episode comes out after a few weeks. Once work hours end, half the staff gathers into the break room, where Lainey has rigged a laptop to a wall screen and Notah has brought a stack of chips and some popcorn. Someone makes coffee, another staffer digs out a packet of chocolate cookies and passes them around. They chatter expectantly and make irritated noises at the hosts until fifteen minutes into the episode, when the scene shifts into a sparse room with only a chair, a table, and a drooping, dusty fake potted plant on the edge of the screen. Xeno sits in the chair, hands crossed on the table top, and looks grave. ”I take it this interview will be in confidence?”

”He’s on, he’s on!” Lainey hisses. ”Everyone shut up!”

”Oh, this should be good,” Notah whispers. ”He looks like a pit viper ready to strike.”

” _As it stands,_ ” Xeno says on the screen. ” _Mars is classified as a_ _R_ _estricted Category V planet, and as such, requires_ _l_ _evel 4 containment facilities. If we bring back Martian soil samples, we should consider quarantining them in the orbit to see whether something starts to grow in them once they’ve been exposed to more favourable conditions._ ”

”Is he just going to talk shop?” Emery from the propulsion team says, disappointed. ”I expected more than boring them to sleep.”

The video cuts to the hosts mucking about near a fenced NASA building and pointing out something in the distance.

”I think that's the old tanker truck container that the rover team scavenged last year,” Notah observes. ”Didn't know they dumped it out there.”

The hosts on the screen debate loudly whether or not it is a secret lab module in construction and wonder if it will be a level 4 orbital containment facility.

Notah snorts loudly. ”That wreck doesn't even contain rainwater.”

After a while, the sparse room returns. ” _Of course,_ ” Xeno is saying, _”there’s always the possibility of a debris strike that could create a catastrophic chain effect and send contaminated material hurtling into the atmosphere. Most of it would burn up on entry, but removing_ _heat-shielded containers like_ _the escape pods would still be a reasonable precaution and would go a long way to preventing ill-advised survival attempts from bringing a back contamination down to Earth_ _'s surface_ _._ _Worst case scenario would be a contaminated pod hitting an ocean._ ”

”Did he just say what I think he said?” Lainey asks.

” _Questions like this_ _should be also considered before we attempt to, say, cultivate tubers in Martian soil,_ ” Xeno continues.

”Shhh, let’s listen!”

For the next five disappointing minutes, the camera follows the hosts as they try and fail to get into an offsite warehouse that mostly contains old company cars. Then Xeno comes back on, mid-sentence. ”— _the bioweaponry capabilities of alien civilizations are obviously something that needs to be assessed carefully. The risks involved in, say, sending a small team to explore an abandoned storage facility in hopes of finding something_ _we could_ _reverse engineer could easily lead to the entire team being_ _compromised_ _and lost. Adding an artificial intelligence to the team would increase the chances of completing such a mission and minimize the problem of losing valuable samples due to the unpredictable human element—_ ”

Bob the intern chokes back a laugh. ”That’s _definitely_ worse than anthrax.”

” _Of course, running animal experiments in zero_ g _sounds promising but could_ _easily_ _have unanticipated side-effects. In case of containment failure, someone could to get their_ _helmet smashed open and their_ _face torn off._ ”

Someone has fetched Terry from Archives. She is watching the screen with rapt attention, fist stuffed halfway into her mouth.

” _I understand that you have personally encountered aliens from extraterrestrial civilizations,_ ” the interviewer says eagerly.

” _You have understood that, indeed._ ”

”Now we’re getting to the good bit,” Notah chuckles.

” _Can you describe that encounter to us?_ ”

” _I could try,_ ” Xeno says, looking off to the side like he’s been struck by a sudden bout of nostalgia. ” _Before that encounter, I can only describe myself as a pupae. Meeting this alien planted a seed in me. For a time, that seed incubated in me, until I was ready to burst from my shell as a new being._ ”

”Wait,” Terry says around her fist.

” _So you would say that the experience changed you?_ ”

” _I would say that it_ morphed _me,_ ” Xeno says in a gravelly voice and pins his large, black eyes on the host.

Emery inhales a mouthful of crumbs and Lainey has to pause the video so Notah can beat them on the back until they stop coughing.

” _Can you give us more details about your meeting with the alien?_ ” the interviewer asks.

”He’s really pushing for it,” Bob the intern says. ”Poor sod.”

” _Ah, yes. The visual conditions were rather poor_ _at the time since_ _our lights were flickering, so I could only see the_ _creature_ _intermittently. The best description I can give you was that it was much smaller than us, about the size of a horseshoe crab, and possessed a flexible tail and several limbs that were arranged around a flattened central body. I was told that its blood could have interesting applications, which was why we were trying to study it._ ”

” _That sounds, uh, unusual._ ”

” _Unusual body plans aren’t all that rare even here on Earth. Did you know, for instance, that moray eels have a secondary set of jaws in their throats that they can move forward to help them_ _grab onto and_ _swallow their prey?_ ”

” _Um. No?_ ”

” _Regardless, it was a rather intense, and, should I say..._ physically involved _experience._ ” Xeno licks his lips and brings his middle finger to his mouth. The rest of his fingers stay slightly curled.

” _So what happened?_ ”

” _I admit I can’t give you the whole story. There are some holes in my memory. I have trie_ _d_ _to reach my colleagues who were there at the time_ _to have them_ _independently verify the events, but unfortunately, I have been unable to locate any of them. It’s like they have disappeared._ ” Xeno fiddles with his sleeve, then crosses his hands on the table again and leans closer to the camera. ” _I have vague impressions of screaming and I remember chasing someone, though, so I do know they_ _didn't leave before I did_ _. My memories from the start of the encounter, on the other hand, are clearer._ ”

The host is now visibly uncomfortable. ” _Can you talk to us about those, then?_ ”

What follows is over in less than a minute but gets burned permanently into the minds of everyone watching the screen. Xeno starts up by describing how the creature escaped from its binds and then nonchalantly states that it lunged at his face and stuck there. ”Once it had attached itself _—”_

” _That’s, um,_ really _—_ ” the host tries to interrupt.

Xeno refuses to be derailed. ”— _extended a fleshy tube from its midsection._ ”

” _That sounds very uncomfortable—_ ” The pitch of the host’s voice has gone up an octave and his tone is bordering on desperate.

” _It was, to a degree, but the creature excreted some kind of slick mucus that I believe had mild paralytic properties, because it inhibited my gag reflex. The main sensation I felt was that of my throat being entered and stretched out._ ” He stares into the camera without blinking, brings his hand up to his neck and slowly strokes the tips of his fingers over his Adam’s apple. ” _I could feel the bulge it made from the outside of my—_ ”

At this point, he gets cut off by a radio interference sound effect and a long bleep. There’s a block of text on the screen that states that due to the graphic nature of the material, it has been censored to protect more sensitive viewers.

There’s dead silence in the break room.

After ten seconds, the video cuts back to the two visibly uncomfortable and shaken hosts, in the same room, talking with each other. Xeno is nowhere to be seen.

” _Look._ ” One of the hosts points at something on the table. The camera zooms in on to an eroded spot that looks like something dripped onto the surface and started to eat its way through the material. ” _That wasn’t there before,_ ” he says, and reaches a hand towards it.

The other host yells, ” _Don’t touch it! Don’t touch it!_ ” and knocks his arm away. The camera falls over. The credits roll and the video ends.

The clock on the wall ticks loudly on.

”So, uh,” Lainey eventually starts.

At that very moment, the real life Xeno pokes his head in through the door and says, ”Has anyone seen my—what are you lot doing in here?”

Bob the intern screams and drops his chips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Xeno gets pretty descriptive about facehuggers in here.
> 
> To my knowledge, poor Terry has never really been secretly filmed by the Ancient Aliens crew. That's because I made her up, just like I made up everything else in the fic that has to do with Ancient Aliens, aside from the fact that they exist and had at least one episode on NASA. I don’t feel the slightest bit bad about making up stuff that involves Ancient Aliens.
> 
> Mars really is classified as a Restricted Category V planet (check out the [planetary protection system](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Planetary_protection) if you have time, it’s pretty cool), a [level 4 biosafety facility](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Biosafety_level#BSL-4_facilities_for_extraterrestrial_samples) will be needed for manned Mars missions, [moray eels have totally weird mouths](https://www.nsf.gov/news/news_images.jsp?cntn_id=109985&org=NSF) and [horseshoe crab blood](https://bigthink.com/surprising-science/horseshoe-crab-blue-blood) is used to help keep the space station clean because it's sort of magic and reacts to minute amounts to pathogens, but will become obsolete in the near future, fortunately for the crabs. Those are the only real details in Xeno’s spiel. 
> 
> As for everything else, tell me what you spotted and what you thought about everyone's favourite gruesome science goblin!


	2. Hark the Herald Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Stanley makes Xeno go to a kinky club and Xeno has a revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's plenty of kinky sexual content in this chapter, even if no one is having sex and none of it is explicit.

In less than a week, everyone at work has heard about the Ancient Aliens interview. No one wants to be directly associated with it. That sort of thing could destroy careers.

There are two reasons why it doesn't destroy Xeno's career. One is that Xeno is vital enough to be nearly irreplaceable. The other is that the people who hired him have become inured to the wreckage he periodically leaves in his wake.

Unsurprisingly, it still causes something of a public relations uproar. The only reason the situation doesn't get completely out of hand is that every larger media house that picks the story up runs it as a small humour piece, despite most of them questioning the taste of the prank at least a little. Apart from those, Xeno gets one STEM editorial diatribe addressed at him about irresponsible behaviour. He responds to it with a short, measured, to-the-point piece that is peppered with scifi references.

It also becomes an office legend of sorts, a thing that gets talked about around the coffee table in tones of awe and disgust, and at any one time there is at least one in-house copy of the episode in circulation. At the same time, the whole thing has left people wondering just how warped Xeno's mind actually is, despite everyone who works with him having already had to deal with his unsettling version of small talk for years.

It’s not exactly a surprise to anyone who interacts with him on a regular basis that there are frightening things floating around in Xeno's head. The difference now is that most people have just been exposed to small dribbles of it at any one time, while the general consensus is that Xeno went into full boss monster mode in that interview. It's enough to nearly make them pity the film crew.

Not to mention that Bob the intern is now half convinced that Xeno is secretly a cannibalistic murder alien.

Weeks after the fact, some enterprising person mails a box to the Rocket Lab with Xeno's name as the recipient. When opened, the box turns out to contain a customised xenomorph toy, which is wearing two small chokers and a hand-made tie. It has a name tag that reads _Dr. Xenomorph_.

Xeno has almost no non-work-related clutter on his desk, but the xenomorph toy acquires a little space all to itself next to his bowl of stick drives. A week later, it also acquires a small, crocheted laptop decorated with a yellow W-shaped logo that it can hold in its hand. No one knows where the tiny laptop came from and Xeno will not tell, but suspicions fall on Terry from Archives.

Months later, astronaut trainee Byakuya Ishigami, who has recently arrived from Japan, stands beside Xeno's desk and looks curious. ”Hey Xeno, that's a cool figurine. Is there a story behind it?”

”It came in the mail after a TV interview I did.” Xeno waves his free hand. The other is busy making notes on a stack of printouts. His sleeves have been rolled up to his elbows and there's a half-empty take-out cup of slowly congealing coffee teetering at the edge of the table. ”Ask around. Someone should have a copy.”

Four days later Byakuya makes a knee-jerk distressed face when he runs into Xeno in the hallway.

-

Out of everyone who knows him, Stanley is the one who gives Xeno perhaps the most frank feedback about the whole thing.

”That was some of the most fucked-up shit I've seen in a few years,” he says as he lights up.

”Thank you. I did try.” Xeno leans on the railing of the balcony in Stanley's apartment, hands hanging loosely over the edge. ”Move downwind if you're going to exude fumes.”

Stanley changes spots with him.”Neat trick with the table, by the way. How'd you do it?”

”A vial of sulphuric acid taped to the inside of my forearm with a thin tube coming out of it that I stuck through the sleeve button hole. Had to be careful not to get it on my hands, though.”

”Well done. Are we going to talk about the other thing?”

A small crease appears between Xeno's eyebrows. ”What other thing?”

”That thing where you dropped some weapons-grade wank material on the tinfoil hats.” Stanley takes a long drag and eyes Xeno thoughtfully. ”Never knew you were that much of a kinky bastard.”

Xeno's expression doesn't change. ”What are you talking about, Stan?”

Stanley lets out an explosive sigh. ”Okay, that's it. I told myself I wouldn't get involved, but that's crosses the line into being inexcusable.” He puts the cigarette out in the tray with more force than necessary. ”You,” he says, pointing a finger in Xeno’s face, ”are coming to the club with me.”

”What,” Xeno says. ”No.”

-

”Fine! I will go to your wretched sex den,” Xeno hisses with no small amount of bad grace, ”if you _guarantee_ to me that under no condition will anyone _touch_ , _leak on_ or _dribble at_ me.” He holds the silver-coloured shirt that Stanley tossed at him at an arm's length.

”Stop stressing about that,” Stanley replies as he carefully applies a set of eyelash extensions on his lower right lid. ”The rules are there for a reason.”

”There are rules?”

Wow, this was a bad idea.

-

”How far is it, exactly,” Xeno demands, ”and why couldn't we take a cab?” Stanley's shirt is a bit loose on him, and he keeps yanking his chokers around in a futile effort to make it fit better. Those chokers have been part of Xeno's repertoire for a couple of years already. He picked them up even before he went for the black-like-my-soul turtlenecks and the dramatic overcoat.

Stanley had assumed – had _hoped_ , really – that Xeno was just keeping a tight lid on it. Instead it looks like Xeno had, proverbially speaking, been sitting down at the family dinner table in his fetish gear and earnestly thinking that he was just wearing clothes.

This is a _very_ bad idea. Worst case scenario, Xeno will throw a fit and they will be asked to leave, and Stanley will then spend the next few weeks listening to Xeno’s bitching _and_ trying to explain his serious lapse in judgment to his acquaintances.

He should have just told the nerd to go read some books.

”We didn't take a cab,” he says, “because I need to get you up to speed before we get there, and a car ride is too short for that.”

”I think you're making this out to be unnecessarily complicated. I can just figure out what to do through trial and error.”

Scratch that. Worst case scenario, Xeno gets them both permanently banned from the club.

”For starters, that kind of attitude is going to get left at the door.”

”How on earth do you expect me to work with that?” Xeno asks, consternated. ”I am a scientist.”

This is a _stupendously_ bad idea, but it's too late to back out of it now.

Damn it. Stanley rather liked this club.

-

Xeno does not like the club. That much was to be expected, but true to form, Xeno does not like the club _in detail_.

He does not like the lights. He does not like the music. He does not like the furniture, he does not like the atmosphere, he did not like either of his two drinks that he picked for himself, and he emphatically did not like the friendly bears who called him a cute twink and asked him if he wanted to dance. It has been nearly an hour and Xeno does not like that either. Stanley is nearing his wits' end.

”How long do we still have to stay here for?” Xeno grouses. ”I have work in the morning.” What it sounds like is a six-year-old going 'this place is boring and stupid, I wanna go home'.

”It's only half past eight,” Stanley replies. “You agreed to two and half hours, stop trying to wiggle out of it.” He orders himself another beer.

The one saving grace about the situation is that nothing has gone spectacularly wrong. Yet.

He may have significantly lowered his standards about what that means.

It’ll be worth it, though, if it helps Xeno figure his shit out. Stanley hadn’t realised how _badly_ he needed a healthy outlet, and maybe, just maybe, something here will click.

”I am not the one who is doing the wiggling around here. Look at those people over there, what do they think they are—”

Although the longer they're there, the less hope he has for that, and the greater the likelihood becomes that he’s going to end up punching Xeno.

One and a half hours to go.

-

After downing another drink that he is surprisingly only mildly displeased with, Xeno refuses to go to the toilet without backup. “I have read things about these places,” he says, like he’s in the _know_.

”I visit these places on a regular basis, and I say you can go to the bloody loo on your own,” Stanley says, but lets himself be pulled along anyway when Xeno grabs his sleeve.

On the way back, Xeno stops so suddenly that Stanley almost walks into him.

They’re in a hallway, and there's a door to their left that has black and green leaf motif running all the way around its edges. A gold-embossed, four-lettered sign hangs on it at eye height. Well, Stanley’s eye height.

”What's in there?” Xeno demands.

”It's the BDSM section,” Stanley says and prepares himself for another round of things-that-Xeno-does-not-like.

”I can _see_ that, it says so on the sign. What does it mean?”

Xeno is _so much more clueless_ than Stanley had ever given him credit for. ”Bondage, discipline, dominance, submission and sadomasochism. You know, that kind of stuff.”

”That abbreviation is seriously flawed.”

Stanley is fast becoming willing to compromise on those two and a half hours.

”Why have we not gone in here?” Xeno wants to know. He looks angry. “Are you afraid it will offend my delicate sensibilities?”

Stanley snorts. ”What delicate sensibilities? No, it's just not really my thing, and it's a bit more intense than the rest of the club. I figured I'd start you off easy.”

Xeno narrows his eyes at him. ”Is it closed? Or private?”

”No, the door is just a boundary--”

”Are the rules different in there?”

”Well, the basics are the same, but--”

Before he can finish the sentence, Xeno pushes the door open and marches in. It swings shut in his wake.

For a long moment, Stanley stays where he is.

After his initial tour of the place, he hasn't checked in on this portion of the club. He has no idea what the general air in there is like, what sort of community they run, or even if there is much of one. He has little idea what kind of stuff they do. All he’s got are a few throwaway comments from people he knows who sometimes pop in there for variety.

He could just keep walking. Xeno is a fucking adult, he doesn’t need Stanley to hold his hand. Stanley could go back to the bar, try to find those bears again and see if he couldn't get himself set up for the night. He could go outside to have a smoke. He could go have a friendly chat with the bouncer, even if he would have to turn down another offer for a part-time job. He could.

The BDSM section could well be just your garden-variety sex dungeon, where the most notable things are some decorative chains on the walls and the occasional public hand job.

Maybe it's just a bunch of middle-aged office workers giggling over a pile of handcuffs and paddles.

Or Xeno might run into a creepy dom who saw him on TV.

”Oh for fuck's sake,” Stanley grunts and goes in after him.

-

He eventually finds Xeno in one of the side rooms, hanging at the edge of a small crowd that has gathered to watch a scene taking place on a raised dais. A sub in an elaborate harness kneels on a velvet pillow with her eyes closed, her neck craned as far back as it will go. A seasoned domme in skin-tight gold looms over her, delivers orders and praise in a soft, commanding voice and adds the occasional flick from a whip with a practised twist of her hand. Pretty tame set, by the looks of it. No one's even undressed.

Stanley comes to stand beside Xeno. “So, what's your take so far?”

“Nnh?” Xeno barely glances at him.

Stanley turns to get a better look, expecting to see Xeno's pressure cooker irritated face and mentally preparing to steer him out of the room before he launches into a diatribes about 'irredeemable foolishness of humanity'.

Instead, Xeno is staring at the scene with rapt attention. His mouth hangs slightly open and his eyes are wide and pitch-black. He licks his lips repeatedly, there’s a blush creeping up his neck and he's breathing fast.

The domme on the dais grabs the sub by her chin and forces her head forward.  
Xeno makes an aborted glunk and his eyes take on an almost unholy sheen.

Stanley has to look away, because the face Xeno is making is starting to give him the crawlies.

Upside: looks like something _did_ click. Downside: Stanley was there to see it.

It only takes a few more minutes until the scene ends, and Xeno thankfully makes no more visceral noises during that time. Some people clap and whistle. The flushed sub gets divested of the harness with some help and staggers away on the arm of another woman, grinning loopily as she goes. The crowd starts to disperse.

Figuring that he's given Xeno enough time to come back down from whatever high he was on, Stanley turns back to him and starts to say, “So, I take it you've had something of a change of—”

It's as far as he gets before a blur of blonde hair whisks past under his nose as Xeno makes a beeline for the domme.

Stanley can't hear what they're saying, but he can see Xeno's mouth going rapid-fire as he gestures at her. He watches for a while, wondering if he’ll have to intervene, but the woman seems to be fielding both Xeno's barrage of questions, and Xeno himself, entirely on her own. Looks like a keeper, then.

The domme hands Xeno her short whip. He holds it carefully with his cupped hands, as if he is handling one of his expensive instruments. He's going to drop it at this rate.

“Hey doc!” Stanley calls.

Xeno looks up and around, as if he has no idea who is talking to him and why, before he focuses on Stanley.

Stanley jabs a thumb over his shoulder. “I'm gonna head back to the bar. Come find me once you're done.”

“I will,” Xeno says and zeroes back in on the whip.

-

“Hey again, tall, grey and pretty. Mind if I join you?”

It's one of the friendly bears from before. Stanley raises a glass in greeting. “Knock yourself out. Weren't there two of you?”

The man settles down on the stool next to Stanley's and orders an expensive German stout. “Early shift tomorrow. Where's your cute twink?”

“Doing a dungeon crawl.”

“Ah. I had a feeling about him. Not you, though?”

“Not really my thing.” Purely D/S stuff makes Stanley vaguely uncomfortable if he watches it for too long. “I'm more of a leather and knives kind of femme.”

“I'll drink to that.” The bear clinks his glass against Stan's. ”So… how flexible are you on the knives?”

“Very flexible.” Stanley flashes him a grin with hooded eyes that shows off his lash extensions. Then he sighs. “Unfortunately, I'm on babysitting duty tonight.”

“Disappointing, but respectable.” The bear sighs and clinks Stanley’s glass again. ”I'll drink to that, too.”

-

Three hours later, Stanley finally gets fed up waiting for Xeno to resurface and goes to look for him. He half expects to hear that Xeno has been escorted out.

Instead, he finds Xeno in a gaggle of people around a table that is covered in chocolate wrappers and wine glasses, engrossed in a conversation about the best methods to induce subspace.

”Ah, Stanley,” Xeno says amicably. ”Why don’t you join us? Everyone, this is my friend Stanley.”

”Hi,” Stanley grunts. ”It’s late as balls, Xeno. We’ve been here for five hours.”

”Have we? Well, you do know what they say about time flying when you’re having fun.”

”Xeno.”

”Diarmuid here has promised to demonstrate shibari knots for the rest of us.”

” _Xeno_.”

”There’s really need to no rush on my account.”

Stanley has to more or less drag him out.

-

”I even got to try it out,” Xeno informs Stanley as they put sheets on Stanley’s couch for him. He’s completely ignoring the question of whether or not Stanley wants to hear this. ”Cornelia had another scene scheduled with an experienced sub who was willing to humour me. I only did a few things before they asked me to stop, because apparently I got overexcited, but she said that I got into the right headspace very easily and got the general gist of it really fast. A couple of people actually asked me if I was available to play at some point.”

”Cool story, Xeno,” Stanley grinds out. ”Flat pillow or fluffy pillow.”

”Fluffy. Anyway, we spent ages talking the applicability of different materials, I actually developed a hypothesis that aerogel could be used to—”

”I want,” Stanley interrupts him. ”To go. To _sleep_.”

”Well. _Sorry_ for taking up your precious time,” Xeno retorts. ” No one’s keeping you up, I can finish this up by myself.”

”It’s fine. It’s just that that sort of shit isn’t my scene.”

”Ah, I know how it is,” Xeno says sagely, ”your kink is not my kink,” as if he’s some sort of a grizzled BDSM veteran instead of a baby-faced twink that was completely clueless about the whole thing until six hours ago.

It’s just Stanley’s luck that his already insufferable nerd friend has now turned into an even more insufferable budding dom, and he has no one else to blame for that but himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terry from Archives might be a closet Aliens fan.
> 
> I’m not a credible source on any of the kinky stuff, by the way! All I do is read books and articles.
> 
> Stanley and Xeno are close to my age, so their dumb assumptions and expectations get a lot of interference from my own.


	3. Dr. X the World Dominator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Xeno acquires some perspective, and A Coat.

Over the following weeks, Xeno meets up regularly with Cornelia, Diarmuid and a few of the other dom-oriented people from the club. Most often they just talk, but sometimes he gets to practice with them and they teach him about different techniques and their applications. He also meets some experienced subs who are willing to let him try things out.

He likes it. In fact, he likes it more than he had believed it was possible to like something. He's learning a lot of new things these days.

It takes some getting used to before he can tell apart where the dominating role ends and the rest of him begins. There’s also the added complication that he doesn’t yet have a clear sense of what that role will be like.

Diarmuid says it will come with time. He’s too impatient to wait, so Cornelia suggests that he explore some ideas he has and consider how he feels about them.

When he does, he lands on something that feels like second skin but, when he tries to put it into words, it sounds a lot like a caricature of an evil genius.

He expects the others to laugh at it.

They don’t.

He tries it out when he helps Cornelia with a scene she does with one of her regulars who already knows him. Afterwards, he locks himself into the bathroom and only comes out much later with red-rimmed eyes.

It feels like some misaligned piece of him is finally slotting into place.

-

His real name is rare enough to be too recognisable, so Xeno can’t really use it at the club if he goes frequently. After some consideration, he settles on ’Dr. X’ instead. It sounds suitably made-up and is already familiar enough to him that he knows to respond to it.

By day, Dr. Xeno, a mild rocket scientist working at NASA. Come night, _Dr. X, the World Dominator_. Who has his first unsupervised play scene that very same evening.

Xeno leans his arms on the table, drops his head on top of them and groans. What does he think he is doing? It’s going to be a disaster.

”Uh, Xeno?” someone suddenly says, far too close to him.

”Aaaaah!” He flails and shoots back up, scattering a few papers in the process.

” _Aaaaah!_ ” the someone else shouts, too, and jumps back.

When Xeno manages to get a hold of himself again, he finds Bob – formerly the intern, now a junior analyst – standing on the other side of the desk, clutching a folder in front of him like a shield. ” _What._ ”

”I was just going to ask if you were all right?” Bob says tremulously.

”Yes, I am. What do you want?”

”Notah sent me to tell you that there’s princess cake in the break room.”

”Tell Notah that I’ll be there in an hour,” Xeno tells him imperiously, ”and that if there’s no cake left, there will be hell to pay.”

Bob nods frantically and backs away.

Xeno bends down to pick up his papers.

Tch. _Dr. X the World Dominator_ , indeed.

-

Late at night, Xeno sits on a comfortable love seat in one of the smaller rooms at the club. The woozy sub that he just finished a scene with leans against him.

”You were really good to me,” they’re blubbering. ”Thank you _so much_.”

Xeno reaches for the table, where Diarmuid left two cups of warm instant cocoa. His other hand is stroking the sub’s hair. ”You’re _quite_ welcome,” he says softly, ”and you did _very well_ yourself.”

There’s a glow in his chest that feels too big to fit in there.

 _Dr. X the World Dominator_ is in business, and he knows what he is doing.

-

Notah, Lainey, Emery and Bob are chewing the fat in the break room when Xeno wanders in. Bob immediately tenses up. Notah, being the senior person present, gets ready to diffuse the situation.

”Morning,” Xeno says brightly. Instead of his usual brisk walk, he sort of meanders up to the coffee maker, where he discovers that all of the coffee is gone.

Everyone else tenses up as well.

”Ah,” Xeno says, picks out the used filter and deposits it in the trash. He rinses out the filter basket and the pot. ”Do any of you want another cup?”

”Uh. Yeah. Thanks.”

”I’ll make a full pot, then.” Xeno measures the grounds carefully, and while he waits for the coffee to drip, he does the dishes that have been left in the sink. Then he pours himself a cup, but instead of leaving with it, he leans casually on the counter and sips on it. ”It’s a nice day, isn’t it?” he says. ”You don’t usually get this kind of weather in late November.”

The others glance at each other uncertainly. ”That’s true,” Notah finally offers on behalf of the entire group.

”I thought I might walk home, get some fresh air. It’s good for you.” Xeno empties his mug and pours himself another one. He raises it in a salute and says ”Cheerios,” before he meanders out the same way he came in.

After several seconds, Lainey clears her throat and says, ”Okay, but what the _actual fuck_ was that?”

-

Bob, Lainey and Emery huddle behind a space divider, ignoring Notah’s stern recommendation to leave it well enough alone and taking turns to peek around the edge.

Xeno is at his desk, typing a fast staccato on the keyboard, with noise-cancelling headphones over his ears. The only things about him that stand out are that he sits a little straighter than usual, and that the top two buttons of his shirt are open and he’s missing his tie. And his chokers.

”What’s wrong with him?” Emery wonders aloud. ”Has he been replaced by a pod person?”

”I think he might be possessed,” Bob hisses.

”No,” Lainey whispers. ”I think this is more how it would look like if someone who _was_ possessed had an exorcism performed on them.”

”Does that mean,” Emery asks with sudden concern, ”that someone sent Xeno to hell?”

”That _is_ usually thought to be the end result of an exorcism.”

”Well then how do we get him _back?_ ”

”Did I not _specifically_ tell you three to leave it?” Notah suddenly thunders behind them, and they all jump.

-

”Are you sure about this?” Xeno asks Cornelia. She has him sitting in a chair in what is unofficially called the ’domme lounge’ and is giving due consideration to his face. ”I don’t really do make-up.”

”Don’t toss it ’til you’ve tried it,” Cornelia says, tilting his head thoughtfully from side to side. ”A visual gimmick will help you cultivate a presence, while heavy make-up hides your features. It makes you less recognisable, and putting it on can also become a ritual that helps you shift into the appropriate mindset.”

”Ah,” Xeno says slowly. ”I see now. Carry on, them.”

”Good.” She grabs a wide brush and a small tin of black body paint. ”I have an idea.”

-

Xeno stands in front of the mirror. Cornelia could have just given him a hand-held one, but she insisted that he stand up and come look into the full-body one to get a proper sense of the effect.

A large, jagged _X_ stretches over his forehead and down across his eyes, which are lined heavily on the lower lids. The upper lids are painted completely black all the way up to his brow. It makes his usually unremarkable light eyebrows and the whites of his eyes pop. As a finishing touch, a thinner, smaller X runs parallel to the bigger one.

”Well, what do you think?”

” _I love it_ ,” Xeno breathes.

She presses the paint tin gently into his hand and tells him it’s a good brand.

-

”You look like a panda had an accident,” Stanley says by way of greeting when Xeno gets back to the bar.

”And fuck you to you too, you shiv-carrying army porn fetishist,” Xeno shoots back, and then rattles off very fast, ”and if you put me in a headlock I’’ll tell everyone about that time in junior year when you hid the thing under the couch—”

Stanley sits back down.

-

”I need a coat, Stanley,” Xeno says one day, out of the blue.

”You have a coat,” Stanley points out and takes a drag from his cigarette.

”I need a _club_ coat,” Xeno specifies. ”Do you know any good tailors?”

”You know people usually just go to a shop.”

”Shops don’t carry what I have in mind.”

-

Xeno finds a kink-friendly tailor through the community bush radio and hires them to help him designs him a coat and then to make it for him.

When Stanley sees Xeno’s new coat, he almost loses it.

It’s long, jet black and form-fitting. It has a flared-out, jagged hem and a wide, equally jagged collar. There are criss-crossing white fake zippers on the front. Decorative white bands run from the shoulders to the sides like some sort of awkward reverse backpack straps, and between them, on the right side of the breast, sits a hot pink double X reminiscent of Xeno’s customary face paint. The whole thing is _really shiny_.

”It’s made entirely of PVC,” Xeno tells him, giddy with excitement. ”That offers good protection and is very easy to maintain and keep clean. I added a feature on the back that lets me hook up a small pack so I can easily manage my gear during a scene. I’m thinking about also adding custom gloves—”

Xeno is so _proud_ of the thing. He thinks it looks _cool_.

Stanley can’t bring himself to tell him that what actually looks is 80s glam rock meeting the 90s plastic skirt phase in a back alley for a shady tryst. The only thing missing from it is glitter.

-

There’s a whole new dimension in Xeno’s life, but the rest of it remains as it was. Well, more or less, with certain exceptions.

He closes the laptop after he finishes answering another one of Senku’s emails and carefully stretches his sore neck. He hadn’t realised how taut the muscles in there had become until he stopped wearing chokers every day. He’s been working on it, but it is taking a while.

Talking with Senku has become easier lately. There had been an edge to their exchanges that he hadn’t really been aware of until it suddenly started to fade. It makes him wonder how long it had been there, and what it was that changed.

He thinks about it while he makes himself dinner. With a vague hypothesis taking shape in his head, he sits down at the desk with his plate, opens the laptop again and picks out a few of his older messages, where he remembers that Senku and he had a disagreement.

He cringes when he looks at them now. Some of the things he has said sound uncomfortably similar to the things that Dr. X the World Dominator says during his scenes.

He’s loath to admit it, but maybe Stanley had a point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s an inverse relationship between Xeno’s levels of villainy and his kink practice. As one decreases, the other increases. On the other hand, the relationship between his villainy and his coolness factor is entirely linear.
> 
> Just in case someone hasn’t heard this yet and needs to: there’s no correlation between BDSM inclinations and mean or hurtful tendencies or behaviour. On the other hand, there is a clear and scientifically demonstrable correlation between properly conducted BDSM practice and better mental health.


End file.
